Teh SuXx0r: Lameness all-in!!!11!
August 16th, 2005 @ 20:54 by NormMonkey
From the frozen-suxx0r-on-a-stick department:
Hah! I shall make up for my lame not-coming-here-and-blogging-everyday with another entry about nothing! I call this one “Teh SuXx0r: Lameness all-in!!!11!”
Today’s extra-lame blog is brought to you by the letter N, the numbers 4 and 2, and the add-on icemaker kit for refrigerators.
Yes, that’s right. I dedicate this blog to the automated formation of frozen water units. When I’m rich and famous I will build a statue that will take up my entire front yard. It will be an icemaker kit, it will have a dedication plaque, and it will be *functional*! There will also be a fountain nearby, and visitors passing by on the sidewalk will be encouraged to tie up their horses, fill their glass with ice and water, and relax for a few minutes in the hot weather.
You think this is weird?! You ain’t seen nothin’. Read on.
Anyways, stepping aside from the weirdness for a few moments (did I say “Read On”? Oops.) let me tell you my story. It begins, of course, in the days when I was ignorant about ice makers.
I lived in a high-rise apartment on the sixth floor. My fridge was almost empty. Its contents were frequently a jug of water and some sauces and condiments. My freezer, on the other hand, always had a stack of six ice cube trays and a large tub with a lid, for I have *always* been one who likes his drinks with ice. Except beer1, of course, but then beer is always served chilled, unless you’re crazy. I like nothing more than a glass full of ice with the actual drink filling only the small cracks and with me having to constantly refill my glass because it is drained in one gulp. The thing is, the temperature of that gulp is perfect.
The large tub was where I would store the crushed ice. I bought an ice crusher at the coolest culinary store in the world. Or at least in my neck of the woods. Whenever the large tub got less than half-full I would take the remaining ice cube trays, crush all the ice therein and thus refill the tub, and then refill the trays and refreezerize.
At least, that was the theory.
In practice, the tub was empty more often than not. In fact, most of the time, all but one of the ice cube trays were out on the counter and the only one in the freezer had four or five2 cubes left in it. I would actually make the sacrifice and take my drinks without ice.
I justified this with the excuse that I needed to save the last ice cubes for That Special DrinkTM to have when I was feeling down or *really* needed a refresher. The truth, though, was that I knew if I finished the ice I’d have to refill the trays, and that’s serious effort. Right? It takes at *least* ten minutes of solid, horrible pain. Or at least that’s how it feels when you’re faced with the choice of doing the chore3.
There I was drinking without any ice in my glass and feeling terrible. Each sip was too warm, the taste of each drink slightly “off”. I found myself eating fast food just to get the drink from the fountain, with the ice, to go. I searched online for big stainless-steel industrial ice cube makers. All was not well with Team Norm.
One day I made note of this curious device in a friend’s fridge: this odd contraption attached to the wall of the freezer. It had big white teeth and a metal arm. Underneath it lay a gleaming white bucket full of glorious icecubes in everloving quantity. We are talking *piles*. That day my glass was full of ice. Having realized my dream, I could not shake loose the experience. It haunted my sleep.
The first thing I did when I took possession of my new house? I opened the fridge door, wrote down the model number, found the manual. The first thing I did at work the next day? Called the parts department number, and ordered the precious ice-maker kit. What did I do the day it arrived? Invited my friends — you know, they in whose house I first laid eyes on this amazing machine — to come over and help me install the thing.
As I write this, ice cubes slide up and bop my nose with every refreshing drink I take of my wonderfully cold glass of water4.
To this day my every glass is chock-full of ice.
To this day a ring of condensation surrounds the bottom of each and every drink.
To this day, she who helped install the icemaker has free5 penguin-tucking privileges in my car, at any time.
1 Beer, meaning Guinness, for I prefer my beer to be opaque.
2 This being the number of cubes that was acceptable for a glass in the Bad Old pre-icemaker days.
3 I’m really not that bad. I do the laundry. I cut my hair. I mow the lawn. I take out the trash. I do the dishes. The truth is, I *enjoy* doing these things, aside from the one moment of choice immediately beforehand where any alternative is clearly better.
4 Actually as I write this blog entry the cracks between the ice cubes are filled with refreshing melonade.
5 Non-transferable so don’t even think it, Alex.
